


1895

by blondeonblonde



Category: Sherlock - Fandom, Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms, Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle, Wilde - Fandom
Genre: Angst, M/M, Oscar Wilde - Freeform, Period-Typical Homophobia, Trains
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 15:46:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5169449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondeonblonde/pseuds/blondeonblonde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'It was in the year 1895 that a combination of events, into which I need not enter, caused Mr Sherlock Holmes and myself to spend some weeks in one of our great university towns.' - The Three Students.</p><p>In 1895 the scandal of Oscar Wilde's arrest creates a panic in the British press. It also disrupts life in Baker Street. This is exploring what might have happened to drive Holmes and Watson out of London before The Three Students.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1895

**Author's Note:**

> Here I have tried to combine both historical sources and canon Holmes, although there has had to be some bending! For example The Solitary Cyclist is set at Baker Street 23rd April 1985, whereas in this story they left London on the 7th April.  
> I have used the film Wilde, newspaper accounts of Wilde's arrest and the Sherlock Holmes stories as inspiration and evidence- but this is mostly BBC Sherlock!

And so these private reminiscences arrive at 1895 – a seminal year in the lives of Holmes and myself. The start of the year was full of scandal. The Oscar Wilde libel case had rocked the courts and I had been following the story closely. It was not, however, until the 7th April that I was forced to take a more personal interest in proceedings.

The morning of that fateful day started as often at Baker Street with a series of loud frustrated yells from Holmes. He had been agitated for a while and more than usually erratic, leaving Baker Street at odd times of the day and night. I had inferred that he had a case running from the number of telegrams he had been sending and receiving (none of which I was allowed to glimpse). When I asked him what he was engaged in he merely replied that he was helping an old acquaintance with a spot of bother that had befallen him and brushed me off with his usual disinterested wave, making it clear I was not to continue to probe the subject. Looking back I can’t believe I didn’t see the whole truth there and then. I had obviously not picked up as much of my friends powers of observation as I thought. However, I was well used to being occasionally shut out of his investigation. Often I was busy at my surgery and could not betray my patients by up and chasing off after the madman at a moment’s notice as I once had.  

From what I could observe from his demeanour I understood that whatever he had been tasked with was not going at all well. He seemed hyper alert and skittish, a trait I’d seen on him before when a perceived threat was close. The most worrying symptom, however, was that he was not hiding from Mycroft, but rather actively communicating with him. I had noticed the man’s hulking presence several times in the past few weeks carrying out fervent hushed discussions with his younger brother.

He was silent and agitated at breakfast and had not said a word to me,  although I know that he had conversed with Mrs Hudson as she too was in a sulk after the encounter and kept flashing me entreating looks begging me to intervene. I resolutely refused to do so. For as much as my life revolved around Holmes he was fiercely independent in some areas and there were only so many liberties I could take without causing resentment. He was entitled to his privacy after all.

I had made up my mind to weather this storm as stoically as I could and hoped it would pass over quickly, as other such moods had. However this resolution only held up a couple of hours, until I heard him drag his large travelling trunk out of its usual resting place and into his bedroom.

I pelted down the stairs at the sound and thumped loudly on the door, flinging it open disregarding the impropriety. Holmes stood by his bed leaning over his trunk with a duster, attempting to remove some of the larger cobwebs from its casing. He looked up at me quizzically but did not seem upset by my intrusion.

“Dash it all, Holmes!” I cried. “I demand to know what is going on!”

He regarded me with an infuriatingly blank expression which my frustrations wanted to slap from his features. He replied to my question with a tone as equally as bland as his expression.

“I’m afraid I don’t know to what you are referring.”

“Like Hell you don’t!” I raged. Hands balling my sides, itching to connect with his cheek bones. “I want to know what you are planning that you need your travelling trunk for.”

“I’d have thought that was obvious…I am going away for a time, Watson.” He turned from me and resumed wiping the dusty trunk.

“Yes, man, but why?” I cried. “Where are you going in such haste?”

 “I have been charged with an urgent case in one of the country’s finest University towns that I should be foolish to turn down.”

“Thank you! That’s all I wanted to know.” I sighed in relief that he had finally engaged with my questions. This perhaps was the breakthrough I had been hoping for. “When do we leave?”

 _“I_ leave tonight, Watson. You shall remain here.” He turned to face me again. His eyes boring into me as he spoke, steely and not to be argued with. Of course I did anyway.

“Remain here? Absolutely not!”

  
“You absolutely will!”

  
“No! I will accompany you on the case as I always do!”

 

He sighed this time, put down his duster and sat to perch on the edge of the trunk.

“Not this one, my dear friend.” When he spoke it was without emotion, although this indifference made me all the angrier.

 

“Don’t ‘my dear friend’ me, Holmes! I refuse to believe I can truly mean any such thing to you if you are to go gadding off without me.”

It’s not as though he had never gone on cases without me before, but this felt different. His odd behaviour and his secrecy, the fact that he had not told me anything about his plans made me wary of his intentions. The size of his trunk made it clear this was to be a lengthy absence, and my foolish heart clenched at the thought of being without him for such a while. And the mysterious ‘old acquaintance’ made a strange jealousy flare that I had no evidence was needed.

“It’s not a case of not wanting you to come.” He muttered quietly, looking hurt for a second before recalibrating his features. “More that I can’t have you there. It’s for your safety as much as anything else.”

That raised my shackles- Holmes knew exactly how to wound me. That was his defence for his terrible decision to leave me for three years thinking he was dead, as he chased off after Moriaty’s henchmen. That it was ‘for my safety’ that I didn’t know anything about the endeavour. The argument had always left me feeling impotent and wretched. I knew I had a wounded leg which slowed me on occasion but I had hoped I’d more than proved my usefulness after so many years of fighting scores of London criminals alongside the man.

 “At least satisfy me that you will be in no danger without me.” I challenged. He looked me up and down and gave me a withering look.

“I’m sure I shall manage that tolerably, thank you.”

 “Fine.” I spat. “Well, that’s settled then…Off you go again. How long will you be away this time?  A weekend, a month, three bloody years?!”

“I hadn’t noticed you become my Nanny, Watson. I wasn’t aware that I had to run all of my decisions past you!”

I swear I practically growled at him at this moment, irritated such as I was. I knew I had to leave the premises before physical violence ensued.

“I have to leave…I have an engagement.” I yelled at him as I pulled on my overcoat and turned to leave the room.

 “Outstanding timing. I leave at seven. If, of course, you permit me to do so!” He hissed scathingly. 

As it happens I did have a fortuitously timed engagement with an intimate acquaintance of mine, Robert Ross, who had telegrammed me earlier to ask me to dine with him at his club that lunchtime.

I walked the whole way there, quietly seething to myself about the whole affair. However, by the time I had reached my destination I had sufficiently calmed and was looking for a diverting meal. Robbie could be extremely charming and I was in great need of his cheery flirtations.

Unfortunately he was not able to help my mood at all. He was quiet and anxious and not at all his usual self. I filled the somewhat awkward silence by remarking on my walk and the pleasantness of the weather, wondering how I should introduce the topic of Sherlock without seeming so pre-occupied from my charming companion.

He sat there in silence, staring at me, then suddenly burst out in anger and alarm.

“How can you just sit there so calmly, Watson? And talk of the weather as If nothing is happening!”

At my questioning confusion (I wasn’t aware anything was happening) he exploded again.

“Good God man! Don’t you read the papers?”

I frowned, I had actually not seen the papers for a few days. Holmes had been using them for some experiment or other. Ross called over the porter and had him bring us the day’s news sheets. He sat with his head in his hands as I read them through, horrified.

Society Scandal: 

_The press association says: Mr Oscar Wilde was arrested last evening, and conveyed to Bow Street Police Station, where he arrived at 10 minutes past eight._

_Shortly after his arrival, a Mr Ross, a friend of the prisoner, drove up to the station with a small Gladstone bag containing a change of clothes and other necessities for Mr Wilde. But after a short interview with the Inspector on duty, Mr Ross returned to his cab with the bag, having been refused permission to leave it._

_Lord Alfred Douglas, who was with Wilde, accompanied him to the watch house, and was greatly distressed at not being allowed to bail him out._

_This morning the man Taylor, who was mentioned in the libel case proceed-ings as having introduced Wilde to several young men, was also arrested._

_At the Bow-street Police Court to-day Wilde and Taylor were charged with serious criminal offences._

_Several witnesses gave evidence which proved the case against Wilde_

 

I was too shocked to speak. Although I had of course heard about Wilde’s first trials from the man in front of me, I thought his circle had finally been able to persuade him to flee the country.

It was too close to home. I had met Robbie at Taylors (a private club for those of a certain rather illicit perversion) some few years past when Holmes was ‘dead’.  Ross was my one outlet from maudlin pining over the impossibility of my obsession with Holmes. He understood me perfectly having held a similar flame for his dear friend Oscar for many years, ever since they were lovers for a brief time before Ross went to University. The pain Ross still felt at his being passed over by Wilde was soothing to me somewhat, at least I had been spared that from Holmes, adverse to the softer emotions as he was.

 “Oh, John! It was awful. I was there at the arrest… I had begged him to leave, but he insisted on staying. Insisted on facing this terrible charge. Everyone is leaving…I myself can scarcely waste this time to meet with you. I know it was foolish to see you but I thought you might need assistance to get away.”

I felt immediately guilty about taking up Ross’s precious time when he must have so many things to get settled for his departure. I had only wanted to moan about Holmes’ behaviour and decision to leave on this case without me, it seemed of no importance in the face of this impending trouble.

 “Get away?...I can’t leave, Robbie.” I was shocked at the thought.  “What about Holmes?”

“He left you once before as I recall.” He replied archly.

“Yes, and you know how it ruined me. I couldn’t be without him again.”

“Not even if it would keep him safe from scandal? You must surely realise what will happen if I am arrested. I know we have been careful, John, but someone must surely have seen you and I together. If I am arrested it can’t be long before the spotlight turns to my associates. Do you think the police will believe that you and Holmes are innocent if they know of your links with me, and therefore Wilde? You live together for God’s sake!”

I groaned, and pulled at my hair, it was all a dreadful mess. The only salvation was that Holmes would be well out of the way for a little while and would therefore be less likely to get caught up in the scandal should I be arrested. As I have long counted it my chief job to protect him from all things this was my greatest concern.

I cut the meeting short, it was indeed foolish for me to be seen in his presence now and I had to restrict my exposure. There is after all a limit to the amount of protection a dead wife can offer. I thanked him for thinking of me and offering his help despite his own pressing concerns and bade him a strained farewell.

I returned to Baker Street sheepish. The intervening meeting had caused me to think our earlier quarrel ridiculous and unnecessary and I was determined to part with Holmes on friendly terms in case anything were to happen to me before I saw him again. For his part Holmes was less aggressive than earlier too, although maintained a melancholy air which did not make me any more at ease with leaving him alone. He did at least permit me to accompany him to the station. I felt I would be much more at ease when I had him safely on the train and away from danger.

He was silent in the coach, staring out of the windows at the falling evening fog. I too was silent until we rounded the corner to approach the station, when all of my resolve vanished and I blurted out the question at the forefront of my mind.  I could not bear to part without knowing what he was going to be undertaking.

“Is this new case linked to the one you have been working on?” Holmes looked up, suddenly focused on me, so I continued. “You never did tell me what that was about. Did you achieve the required result for your client?”

Holmes shoulders sagged back against the stiff coach seats.

“Regretfully not, Watson. I am afraid I have utterly failed on this occasion to have any influence whatsoever.”

“I cannot believe that, Holmes!” I replied, astonished at his voicing such an opinion.  My friend was not prone to crisis of confidence.

“Believe it you must. The gears of the law courts grind ever forward, and I am no match for their crushing discrimination.”

Before I could further question this intriguing statement the coach halted at our destination and we departed the carriage. In the bright lights of the station Holmes looked utterly exhausted. I sincerely hoped he would be able to get some rest on his journey.

Victoria Station was extraordinarily crowded for such a time on a Sunday evening. We had to push our way through a good many fellows to reach the correct platform. The Oxford train stood waiting for Holmes but he seemed hesitant to depart.  Dithering in a most un-Holmes-like manner he clasped me firmly by the hand and spoke, softly but with utter seriousness.

“My dear, I do regret having to leave you like this. Please know I shall miss you sincerely and intensely… And I should stay in a second if my conscience would allow it” then he turned and boarded the train without a backward glance.

It was then that I noticed a similar scene being acted out all around me. Dozens of pairs of gentlemen were wishing each other discreet and anxious farewells from the station platform. In fact now that I noticed, the platform was filled almost exclusively with gentlemen, boarding trains to the coast. A young man a few carriages down cried out to his friend “I’ll write to you!” in the closest declaration of love I have ever heard in a public place.

Suddenly I realised what was happening as I recalled Robbie Ross’ trembling warning that scores of us were planning to flee London. How much of an idiot had I been not to see it until this time!  And how inconvenient of Holmes to be leaving at the same time as this exodus. To be caught up in the very thing I was longing to protect him from. What unhappy timing!

I suddenly saw Holmes as an observer might, as a subject of observation rather than a trusted companion. I froze. What my dear friend would say about a co-incidence such as this. The electric thought struck me with some tremendous force. Was Holmes in the same danger as them? As I was? Was he also fleeing that cruel law? Was he trying to protect me in the same way I was protecting him?

I was startled back to my senses as a guard blew his shrill whistle and great billows of smoke began to roll down the platform.  Without thinking, or rather…thinking only of seeing Holmes rather than the consequences, I leapt aboard the train and charged down the corridors searching for the man I suddenly understood clearly for perhaps the first time in our long friendship. Somehow I knew without doubt that my conclusions were correct. It shone a blessed light upon his strange behaviour over the past couple of days and made sense of his sentimental statement upon his departure.  I wager he thought he may never see me again, as I had be afraid of not seeing him.

I could barely contain the fluttering of hopefulness in my abdomen and I searched carriage after carriage. I found him at last slumped in a corner of the last compartment of the train, there were no other passengers and as I slid open the heavy particle door he started and sat up poker straight, angry and baffled as to my sudden re-appearance.

 “What are you doing, Watson? Get off the train!”

  
“Not a chance.” I replied forcefully, knowing it was now time to act with a confidence my trembling heart did not feel.

  
“You must get off the train this instant, and get back to Baker Street.  You don’t know what you’re doing! You must carry on on your own for a while …surely you can cope without me for a few days!” He was beside himself with agitation and tried to usher me out of the door. I planted my feet strongly and was immovable.

“Impossible!” I blurted. “I can hardly cope without you for a few hours.”

The train began to move, leaving the station, and London, behind. Holmes stopped his attempts to herd me out of the carriage and started to sulk. He retreated to the far corner of the carriage and turned his back on me.

“Holmes” I said, sitting down opposite him. “I did not come here to quarrel with you again.”

  
“And yet you shall have a quarrel! How can you disregard my instructions so blatantly? Do you not trust my judgement in this matter?”

“I trust you always, Holmes… but I fear you do not have all of the facts on which to base your judgement. I don’t blame you. I have hardly been forthcoming with the evidence but I cannot let you leave me like this.”

He had stiffened considerably in his seat and was looking at me raptly in a startling mixture of desperation, fear and confusion. I took pity on him, or rather I could not cope with talking around the subject.  I drew the newspaper I had been given at the club out of my coat pocket and placed it on the seat beside me. The article about Wilde could just be seen at the fold of the front page. Holmes went white and seemed to stop breathing.

“This is the case you have been working on?” I ventured.

He nodded slowly. “I have been advising Wilde on his strategy, not that he took any of my advice.”

“And this is why you are leaving now?”

“I am leaving to attend a case in Oxford.” He stated.

“And…” I prompted, knowing that there was more to it. Holmes rubbed a hand over his exhausted face and gave in to my questions.

“And being involved with Wilde’s defence team has brought me rather too close to the attention of certain lawmakers who would rather I was discredited before I can do much damage to the prosecution.”

 “Do they have testimony against you personally?” I asked tentatively.

“Nothing as solid as that. However… I am not confident that proof couldn’t be obtained at some point in the future.”  

“I understand that, Holmes. But how could you think of leaving without me.”

 “Your reputation, Watson! I could not bear to see you ruined by this friendship. I will not let you get caught up in my mess.” He was alive in indignation, eyes burning with the thought that he could implicate me in this scandal. I did not know how such an astute man could be so blind to my involvement.

“Oh, very noble of you, I’m sure!” I responded. “But I assure you I am in just as much danger with or without you here. In fact… I confess I am more likely to be the cause of _your_ downfall.”

“You talk nonsense Watson!” He scowled and shook his head. Hands folding in his lap.

“Oh really! In fact this very afternoon I was meeting with Robert Ross, who I suppose you must know if you have been helping with the case.”

“Of course I know him. How do you? …..Oh!” He ejaculated. He started momentarily, thinking through the implications of his deduction, his face a mixture of understanding and repulsion.  “I knew you were having some kind of liaison, Watson…. But I could smell a feminine perfume on you. Surely Ross is not so daring as to wear such a fragrance?”

“Ah, yes…a trick I picked up during my studies. I must admit to being astonished it worked on you, however…”

“I didn’t think much of it.” He told me with a look of studied indifference. “I assumed you were carrying on with some vapid little female. I kept half expecting you to announce another engagement.”

“I would never…”

“You did with Mary.”

“That was a necessity, Holmes. A precaution to keep you from finding out. If I’d have known I had nothing to fear…”

“But Robert Ross!” He interrupted in spluttered indignation.  “Surely you could have chosen someone more discreet. I wonder that your tastes are so pedestrian…And you must know he’s quite absurdly in love with Wilde.”

“Of course I know that. It’s the one thing we have in common and why we were drawn to each other in the first place….” I drifted off, unsure how to proceed. The explanation would require such a candid statement from myself I hardly knew how to go about it.

Then I noticed how Holmes’ expression had closed once again and he had lost the trace of hope. As I watched the light drain from his eyes I hastily re-examined my last few remarks and with a ridiculous horror, realised what he must now think.

“Holmes.” I said gently, bravely leaning forward and placing one hand on his knee. “You ridiculous fellow. I didn’t mean I hold any such flame for Wilde. In fact I’ve scarcely met him in person but once. Our common thread is not the same object of desire, but rather the terrible predicament we both find ourselves in.”

“What terrible predicament?”

At his frown I urged myself to continue. It was a heady feeling to think Sherlock Holmes was one step behind my thoughts.

“We were merely consoling each other over our unrequited feelings.  We could express in no other way such emotions for our dearest friends, in his instance because of outright rejection, and in mine an apparent disinterest.”

I squeezed his leg as he stared at me still speechless. I continued, determined now to seduce the man or be ever damned. Luckily I knew myself to be competent enough at the subtle art.

“It was of mutual benefit to be intimate with a trusted friend and be sure one would not be shunned.”

“Shunned?”

“For I would accept his need if he should utter a strangled ‘Oscar!’ at the moment of climax…”

I had inched forward in my seat, eyes fixed on his across the carriage’s cramped legroom. He was trembling slightly, I noticed, but entranced by my discourse.

“…and it was therefore understood, if I, in the same state of ecstasy, also emitted a cry…”

My hand had reached the top of his thigh and I was on my knees in front of him. He could surely be in no doubt of my desire for him. His usually pale face was flushed and his ears tinged with pink and I had never seen such an erotic sight.

As I paused he came to some degree of his senses and asked with a croak, “In that moment…what name was on your lips?”

I leant up, put my hand around the back of his head and pulled him down so I could whisper in his ear. As my lips brushed his skin and I mouthed ‘Sherlock’ he let out a breathy moan and a wave of tension fled his body. He grabbed my shoulders and brought my lips to his. We kissed for a long while in that manner, me kneeling between his legs, raised up to meet his mouth, arms exploring under jackets and over trousers. When my knees became as stiff as my desire, I levered myself up to sit next to him on the padded bench and we continued to embrace.

“Watson,” he panted in between kisses, “you are such a terrible tease! I almost thought I had it wrong and my desire for you had clouded my understanding. I do declare those were some of the tensest moments of my life!”

“And that’s after facing murders and criminals every day!”  We both giggled in relief and sagged against tone another on the carpeted carriage seats.

“Are you still angry that I came along?” I asked

“Not in the least, my dear man.” He replied. “And I can only hope we reach Oxford before too long.”

“Why is that?”

“Why, I should like to get you in my bed, Watson! If we are in danger of prison because of a rumour about the nature of our relationship, let’s at least ensure that the rumours are true! I should hate to go to prison not having committed the crime for which I was accused.” He looked into my eyes like he should devour me.

“You have never?” I whispered into his lips.

  
“Never with you Watson, and that is what I shall be accused of.” He kissed me again and as the train rolled into Oxford station I thanked God that I had not taken Ross’ advice to leave the country that evening. I knew we were taking a huge risk but I also knew it was worth it a thousand times to feel my love reflected in those great eyes.

 

 


End file.
